


Damaged Soul

by thebeccac



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Action, Angst, Anime, Death, F/M, Original Character(s), Prostitution, Short Story, Tragedy, Violence, mafia, occasionally NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10078778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeccac/pseuds/thebeccac
Summary: Claudia is an intermediary; that was her only role. Until she met Angelo.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This take a different take on the plot, okay? Just need to make that clear. Nsfw warning throughout the chapter, but nothing too explicit 
> 
> A/n: Angelo is in his twenties for this fanfic. Pls just roll with it.

_**This**...wasn't anything. It meant nothing. It seemed pointless. That's what she seemed to think anyway. _

 

_He was anticipating some breach in this 'act'. As was she. It couldn't be anything more. It was just meaningless sex; that was her job and he was the client._

 

_That was the mantra in a loop in Claudia's mind, circulating and annoying the living hell out of her. But, it was important that it made an imprint and kept her aware of this situation._

 

_However, with the covers draped over them, finding their own rhythm between the two of them, warm bodies meshed together, deft fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles to where her hips were...she can damn well be very distracted and could find her resolve dissipating. Breathy sighs echoed throughout the room only for harsh glares, mainly from Avilio, to be given. She can't see what exactly is written on his face - it's ambiguous, just like him in person._

 

_Was he doing this just for the sake of it? Or was he enjoying it, hiding that behind his screen? Maybe he had ulterior motives for this..._

 

_Nothing about this is romantic, as much as it seems. It was his idea and mostly up to him. It was his suggestion and she was only following it. All suggestions made by him were usually with purpose and that was the sole reason she agreed to this._

 

_Her supple stare pours into his steel, grey eyes. It catches him off guard also._

 

_'Shit,' he says to himself._

 

_But this connection is about the biggest they've experienced - it's gone as soon as it's apparent. She rakes her fingers through his ebony locks, probably tossing her head back in pleasure or he pulls her closer by grasping the flesh under her lower thighs to grind deeper and it has resumed again._

 

_She feels relaxed, which was what needed to be done in the first place. He'd once or twice nibble or sink his teeth into her neck, but that would be it. Nothing else. That would be too affectionate for his liking and that was the last thing he wanted._

 

_Anything more would be considered violating._

 

_He was still recovering after all._

 

_Connections and attractions were messy and distracting. This is only a favour for both parties. So it seems to say the least. It relieves pent up frustration and stress, but nothing about this is for amorous affection or feelings._

 

_Or so it seems._

 

_She knows why he won't advance further, why he stops every now and then, to collect the thoughts in his mind and see how much can he continue without having the gravity of these actions get deeper and fall on top of him, crushing him, destroying him once again._

 

_When finished with each other, he doesn't protest to her whims and allows her to rest her messy head to rest atop his chest. He strokes her hair once but quickly withdraws his hand. Maybe this is to make up for his abrasiveness to her? That was it though. But why was curiosity eating away at her? Why did she want to test the waters?_

 

_She'd usually stay ten minutes, sometimes an hour. She never stays the night - that would be risky._

 

_She hummed to herself, in thought._

 

_"What?" he mutters into her head that's only inches away. His tone had a bite to it._

 

_She looks up at him, cocking her head to the side before sighing. With her eyes downcast, she mumbles, "Oh, it's nothing."_

 

_He snuffs at this._

 

~*~

 

 _Smile_ , she tells herself, _no one will want you if you don't smile. You are absolutely gorgeous so you need to smile_

 

She already notices the scarlet nail polish chipping, what with her nervous fidgeting. She entered the commodious (yet not-so-public) bar through the glass-stained double doors, looking to drum up some business.

 

The barman sees her walking in and already has a bottle of prohibited whiskey at the ready. Courtesy to the Family. 

 

She was at work now and took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She is now a petite yet glamorous young woman of twenty-two; pretty and pert in manner with her brown hair swept behind her ears to reveal her green eyes. She is wearing a red dress with an obviously glad neck (having taken off her coat), black stockings and wedges. Her nails were red to match the dress.

 

"No business tonight, Claudia?" The barman asked. "You haven't been attracting much business lately."

 

"I just arrived a few seconds ago, give me a chance."

 

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "How is young Dante doing?"

 

At the mention of his name, Claudia shivered a bit. "Not so good. He's certainly been better." She replied. 

 

A young man approaches Claudia after tumultuously entering the bar. He is hot and full and hasty with the alcohol consumed. Emotions bubble with in him and when he speaks, it's full of passion, albeit slurred. 

 

"Ohhhh..." he sobbed. "When I see a woman like you after a great night, I feel as if I could drink Lake Michigan dry..." he slurred. 

 

Claudia backed away. The barman often told her she was very fussy when it came to picking clients and maybe that's why she was low in funds from time to time. Still, she was entitled to have respect for herself. That didn't stop the man's advances. 

 

"Leave her alone," came a voice. "Can't you see she's not interested?"

 

A voice that was rough and hoarse caught her attention. She looked over and saw a man whose face was hiding under a cap. He walked over to her, slid money over to the barman for him and her drink before guiding her by the arm and out again. His vice-grip on her arm was hard to break free from. The grip was so familiar, like how she was gripped many nights to keep food on the table. 

 

The practice of prostitution made her skin crawl. 

 

This was her purpose in life... she had nothing else apart from this. Well, she did have her brother, Dante, but he might be stripped away from her too if his consumption worsens. The thought was so demoralising to her; the thought of being completely alone. 

 

This young man had pulled her into his house. _This is it_ , she braced herself. 

 

His grip loosened. 

 

"...Sorry?"

 

He reached inside his pocket. "Do you need a light?" 

 

_How did he--_

 

"I can tell you smoke, no point in trying to hide it," he spoke, cigarette in his mouth and about to take a draw. "You're trying to quit, but the faint smell is there. Plus, you're constantly shakin' - maybe from fatigue- you are experiencing withdrawal symptoms." And he puffed. 

 

"Why did you save me from that man?" She asked. 

 

The man walked over to the stairs and crushed the stub against the banister. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a few notes. He dragged a hand along her stomach and hips before slipping the notes into her pocket. "I wanted to use you myself. However, I see no point at the moment. You may be a prostitute but you deserve to be respected."

 

Now that was a first. She was expecting to be thrown onto the bed after his first sentence. He just tipped her for no reason as well. Out of habit, she had to ask, "Are you sure?" She _needed_ the money - for Dante - and she saw extra notes in his pocket. Was she going to get herself into another messy night only to be thrown about? 

 

She dragged a pallid finger to his chest and seductively whispered in his ear, "I charge by the hour," and grabbed his hand, "what is your name?" 

 

"Avilio Bruno, and I'll only need you for two."

 

"Well, Mister Bruno," she paused to kiss his cheek, "let's take this upstairs, shall we?" And thus initiating what is to be another busy yet ironically lonely night with this Mister Bruno fellow. 

 

She was guided to a bedroom and he sat on the bed, beckoning for her to come over. "I do have a favour I need to ask of you," he began as she sat on his lap and began to unbutton his shirt. 

 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his neck and began to kiss and leave bites for remaining in one spot. And in between these ministrations, she managed to rattle off one of the rules she operated by. "Under no circumstances, shall I reveal the details of past men - sometimes women - I have spent the night with."

 

Avilio leaned forward and began to disrobe her. He unzipped the dress from the back and pulled it down, letting the fabric drape around her hips. His touch travelled down the curves of her waist. She flushed at this; normally, men wouldn't take the time to remove her clothes nor did they care. Mister Bruno seemed to be savouring this.

 

She let a sigh slip out, was she getting excited?

 

What was it he wanted? Information?

 

He pulled her down for a soul-sucking kiss. She closed her eyes and almost moaned straight away, softly panting. "And if I were to say 'pretty please'?" 

 

Such a kiss made even the likes of Claudia breathless. 

 

"Kissing will get you nowhere, Mister Bruno." 

 

"You sure about that... Claudia?" He whispered, moving his fingers below her navel and to a more intimate part of her anatomy.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how to end chapters. Sorry about the whole "taking advantage" of her. This fanfic kind of touches off prostitution again and again so here is a nsfw warning for future chapters.
> 
> The first part of the chapter was kind of a preview of what is to become of their relationship


End file.
